I had an idea. Well. An image in my head. Of Kagome and Inuyasha as vigilantes in a city that, in this universe, is known as tokyo, but in theirs is still "Edo" and did not become the capitol. Kyoto is in that universe. This came about.
Just little snippets into their lives as vigilantes and other superheros they might know.
The air stank of determination and ambition. Sweat crawled down her face. A fist jumped into her field of vision and she attempted to block – too slow – unsuccessfully, falling to the floor. She reminds herself how necessary her training is. Her calves ached with the strain of stillness, her forearms were bruised. She felt the pain down to her bones. She gritted her teeth and rolled back onto her feet, her hair falling out of the French braid.
"No, Kagome. Deflect my blows, you must deflect." The old sensei snapped with impatience. "How will you overcome a man twice your weight if you cannot do such a simple thing as this?"
Kagome's jaw clenched tightly. She hated this part of her day but knew it would save her life on many occasions; she owed Miroku for setting up the appointments with Myoga for her. It was imperative that she learn to master herself.
She stood, breathing heavily, waiting for the man's next move. He circled her with the stoic grace of a shark, each step measured, every muscle movement controlled. She could feel the strength in his body by how lightly, soundlessly he trod the floor. She hoped to be as he was soon. His hand made a left jab; she sidestepped and wound off a roundhouse kick. Her foot was caught and she was flipped onto the mats. She rolled and made a grab for a bow drawing it back to shoot an imaginary arrow at him.
"Better." He paused for a brief moment, considering. "Now. Again."
And so they continued throughout the afternoon, Kagome learning from the spry old master how to tumble without injury, the proper way to twist in the midst of a somersault, the importance of footwork and innovative thinking. She bit back her words as he instructs her, knowing full well that irritating the man would only slow the lesson. I needs this, she thought, keeping her face carefully blank. I need to save my city.
You will never know when an agile step could save your life, he counseled.
Stay light on your feet, do not plod about like a horse, he snarls.
You must let yourself be grasped in order for you to take down others. Use my weight, my strength against me, he hisses.
Kagome learned patience more than anything else so far in her lessons. She spaced for a moment, worried that she will be late to pick up her brother from kindergarten.
"Always be aware of others, what have I told you?" he snapped. Kagome grimaced as she twirled away from the beginning of a throw, minding herself. His hand shot out, quick as a whip, but she redirected it fluidly – spun, jammed her forearm against his sternum, stepped around his leg, and toppled him.
Her breath shuddered out of her lungs. She thought that her arms might detach themselves from her torso, she was so exhausted. "That's two hours of my time here. I thank you for all you've taught me. I'll be back the day after tomorrow."
"Your practice has made a show of your progress." Myoga offered her a slight smile. He stood, his hands folded behind his back. "You've done credit to those of your generation, Higurashi. I expect you to build your stamina. Start running every day of the week. It helps with swiftness and lung capacity." He straightened his gi and walked to the edge of the dojo, sliding open the door. "When we'll finish, you'll be able to topple even the strongest of men.
"Yes, sensei. I'll take my leave then." She bowed low, her legs shaking. She had to call Miroku and tell him: she was ready to meet Bloodhound.